Not Sorry
by Amvonz
Summary: "Levi," Petra pauses, biting her lip, almost unable to believe she would have to remind humanity's strongest of her mortality. But he is still human. Sequel to White Knight.


"You could have died" is stuck to the roof of his mouth, straining against his teeth but Levi swallows it back. Of course she could have died. He could have died. There's hardly a moment when they aren't in danger.

And really, he should be grateful. He'd thanked her, of course. He wasn't in a hurry to die. She'd shown great courage, although he never doubted she was brave.

Yet the need to chide her pulls on his tongue. He watches Petra's face when he grips her by the shoulder and finds himself frustrated. It wasn't until they'd landed on the forest floor that Petra made any indication she was in pain. Her shoulder must have dislocated itself when she'd carried him out of the tree, no doubt thanks to the stress of having to catch her Captain in mid-air.

What weighs on his mind isn't her injury. The parasitic fear in his brain is the realization that Petra had come stupidly close to the mouth of a titan. She'd nearly abandoned all her senses when his gas canisters malfunctioned and threw herself through the air to save him.

A rush of air escapes through his nostrils. She'd told him once he did that a lot. Sigh through his nose.

Petra squirms in place for a moment, leaning further into her bed and Levi allows it, waiting for her nerves to cool. Her face is crumpled, a flower-bud crushed between mischievous fingers, painful for him to look at.

Instead of a scolding he mutters out a small apology before sliding her arm back into place, the socket accepting the limb with a small 'pop'. A monstrous bruise will flower over her shoulder, no doubt. The pale flesh was already red and purple, delightful freckles blotted out with blood.

Petra's face burns red from her ears to her nose, eyes screwed shut. Her mouth is clamped down on a folded up cloth, although it proved unnecessary, as she kept silent through the whole thing. Painful quiet settles over the room, only the repulsive pop of Petra's shoulder ringing in Levi's head.

"Breathe." His voice is low and stern, but Petra keeps her eyes shut. Levi leans forward, hand reaching for her balled up fist, long fingers wrapping around hers. His other hand brushes a strand of hair from her face.

"Petra, it's alright now. Breathe." Her lips part, chest heaving with panting breaths and Levi catches the cloth as it falls from her mouth. The crease in her brow disappears as she opens her warm hazel eyes, her gaze locking with Levi's. He suspects he saw the glimmer of a tear.

"Ouch."

It's barely there, hidden in her exhale but he hears it and looks her in the eye, his expression accusatory. She gives a lopsided smile in return, lacing her fingers through his.

"It's alright now, Levi. Breathe." She runs her thumb across his skin, hoping the teasing will settle him. He pulls his hand back from hers, getting up from the bed to rummage through her bedside table.

Petra's smile evaporates.

"Are you upset with me?" Levi doesn't answer, fishing through her things with a blank expression. The urge to cry out "I saved your life." sneaks up on her, but she turns from it. Of course she would save his life. The sight of him falling through the air, hurtling straight to the ground flashes through her mind. She'd jump in to catch him a million times over.

"Levi, I'm fine." She can't help it, a pleading tone sneaks into her voice. Petra pushes herself onto her side, trying to swing her body up into a seated position when Levi's eyes flash up.

His voice is taut, tight like a string stretched to its limit.

"Petra, lie down. You can't lean on your arm right now." He's standing, body looming over hers and she complies, eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

"I know."

He seats himself again on the edge of her bed, uncorking a small bottle that Petra recognizes as her vodka ration.

His hand slips under her head, fingers tangling with her copper hair as he lifts her face up to meet the bottle.

"Levi," Petra pauses, biting her lip, almost unable to believe she would have to remind humanity's strongest of her mortality. But he is still human. How many Scouting Legion lovers already had this conversation?

He recognizes the shift in her expression, sees that same look she gives young recruits who still haven't grasped that war forgives no one. The look she gives when she tells them to let go.

Doesn't she realize that he's already let go of so much? That he only has so much left in him for kindness and goodness and too much of it is tied up in her?

The bottle is pressed up against her mouth now and Petra yields, letting the heat of the drink distract her from the throbbing pain in her shoulder. Once her ears stop burning and her lids grow heavy she presses her hand against his, taking the bottle away from her lips. She sees his cold eyes and severe mouth and thinks to herself it isn't fair that she loves him so much. She thinks it's a damn shame taking your own advice is so difficult. But she does it anyway.

"You can only really take care of yourself. I take care of myself, and if anything happens, then it happens, okay?" Her mouth felt odd, his words coming from her lips, albeit in her soft tones, cushioned with a level of affection he rarely showed anyone.

Something akin to shame or indignation washes over him and Petra sees it, sees the hostility coiling up in his chest like a snake ready to attack. The distance between them is unbearable now and she can't take lying on her back any longer, can't stand the thought of being vulnerable to his feigned indifference. It takes some effort but she manages to force her tired body up, their noses bumping indelicately.

Warmth radiates through the kiss, desperation passing from his skin to hers and she touches his face, cool fingers smoothing over his cheek. His hand remains at the back of her neck and he curls his fingers in, blonde hair threading through his nails. The vodka burns on his tongue when he pulls back. She doesn't smile, but she laces her fingers through his again, not letting him drift off on his own.

It isn't so much an apology. No one knows better than Levi that she's right. But it is something. It's all they've got in the moment, bruised and aching and always teetering on the edge of eternity.

It's her whispering into his mouth _I love you._


End file.
